Salvation of One
by loridonovan
Summary: Small Spoiler for Ep. 6: Salvation regarding Syd/Vaughn. Short series that will include small spoilers on the "ship" between Ep. 6 and Ep. 9. LoriDonovan previously writing as Alicawrites.
1. Salvation of One

Minor Spoiler for Episode #6: Salvation *actual spoilers appear within ***  
  
75% of the dialogue belongs to JJ, Bad Robot, et al. Vaughn's thoughts and the rest are mine.  
  
SALVATION OF ONE  
  
Quarantined. With Sydney Bristow. Did the bad guys know that by infecting him with some mystery disease they were also fulfilling one of his fondest wishes? Probably not. Yet here they lay, side by side, on matching cots. And she slept.  
  
He didn't mind. It afforded him time to watch her without being observed. Without having to glance at his wingtips whenever it felt as if he'd be looking for too long. Without having to use his peripheral vision.  
  
Even now, when it appeared they might have some godforsaken terminal illness, she was lovely. Her silken hair, fell back across her shoulder, pooling on the uncomfortable mattress behind her. Her breathing was soft, deep, peaceful. How did she manage it?  
  
Had they really gotten so far, survived Taipei, survived the Rimbaldi prophecy, survived the resurrection of his father's killer, just so they could die from some overblown flu? And what now? What if this was the end for both of them? There was so much that had yet to be said.  
  
He was sure his cards were showing as far as Sydney was concerned. Sure that she knew there was more to his concern than that of a colleague. He wasn't the field agent. He hadn't been trained as thoroughly as she in the art of the poker face. Yet he wondered if she questioned his commitment to her. Did she think he harbored reservations over the circumstances of his father's death? If only he could tell her that the shared pain of that loss bound her to him all the more.  
  
Her eyelids flickered. He watched as her pupils focused on the ceiling above and could see the clarity cross her face. Sleep was fading and reality was setting in. She turned in the cot until she was facing him. A smile. Such a smile! Slow, comfortable - no pretenses. Not rushed, or hidden, or nervous. Simply authentic. Simply Sydney.  
  
He returned it. *** "Hey," she said.  
  
"Hey," he offered back.  
  
"Close your eyes at all?" she asked.  
  
"Off and on," he said, knowing she would spot the lie.  
  
Say it. He ordered himself. But the words wouldn't come. Instead, he sought levity. "You talk in your sleep."  
  
She wrinkled her forehead. "No." Hard for a seasoned agent to come to grips with talking out of school. "What'd I say?" she asked. He watched the flush spread across her face.  
  
What had she been dreaming about, he wondered? "Don't frost the pie." He smiled. The fleeting image of he and Sydney in her kitchen, her in nothing but a white chef's apron flashed through his admittedly masculine mind. "It seemed very important," he teased.  
  
She shrugged her shoulder and the corner of her mouth lifted. "No idea."  
  
He laughed at her embarrassment and she joined him. They were so close. Inches apart. Her smile remained but he could see the anxiety in her eyes. He wished he could bridge the short gap and sink his hand into her hair, comforting her.taking some of the burden of her worry.  
  
After a long pause, she finally whispered, "Think we're sick?" All of a sudden she's a child and he longs to give her the comfort she's never found in the arms of a parent. The kind of comfort that parents can't give. The comfort of a lover. *** How does he answer and make her believe it? "I don't know." Honesty. Yes, that's what Sydney Bristow needs from him. Not projections, not statistics, not false hope. Honesty.  
  
"Thanks for not sugar coating it," she said.  
  
He laughed softly and slurred, "Maybe that's what you meant about not frosting the pie." Sleep was taking him. Perhaps he should have tried harder to rest while she slept. Now, when he wanted to share this time with her, his eyelids felt incredibly heavy.  
  
"Vaughn?" she asked.  
  
His eyelids popped open.  
  
"I wouldn't wish this uncertainty on anyone," she continued, when she saw he was alert. "But.if we had to go through it - I'm glad we've got each other."  
  
"Nobody I'd rather be quarantined with." he murmured. He was losing consciousness. This wasn't right. This wasn't sleep.  
  
"Vaughn!"  
  
The sound of her voice calling his name echoed in his foggy head. It was the last sound he would hear.  
  
To be continued.  
  
A/N: I'm going to piece together some basic, widely known, Syd/Vaughn spoilers up to and including Episode 9.. Then take it from there with a full-blown Syd/Vaughn encounter. Let me know if you enjoy it. 


	2. Someday

A SALVATION OF ONE The Counteragent's Someday  
  
Remember: Actual spoilers for Episode #7, Counteragent, are separated by *** Everything else is my own imagination.  
  
A clean bill of health. Words that would typically be a blessing to the ears of anyone threatened by chemical warfare. Not for her. For her a life sentence was beginning to seem much more unbearable than the alternative.  
  
She was fine and he . he wasn't. The bitter waters had swallowed him up, while she remained safely behind the glass and steel - out of harms way. That was where he belonged. He was her handler, but this had gotten out of hand.  
  
Over-watering Francie's geranium wasn't helping, but at least it was an occupation - until Weiss called. Until she knew she had a purpose.  
  
"Hey," Will said, as he walked through the front door. "Francie wanted to know if you're going to stop in tonight. She could use your support."  
  
"No," she said, absently, continuing to drown the greenery.  
  
"No?" he asked, irritation in his voice. "Syd, I know you've got priorities - but Francie doesn't understand that. She's counting on you."  
  
Sydney whipped around, furious - with Will for unwittingly insinuating that Francie restaurant woes somehow compared to Vaughn's illness - with herself for not being there on any level for ANYONE except Kendall and Sloane. How had she managed to pledge her allegiance to them and fail her friends. Vaughn.  
  
"I'm a terrible friend." She sobered her fury, turning it inward.  
  
Will crossed the room and placed both hands squarely on her shoulders. "I didn't mean to say-Sydney, you once told me . if I knew what you did I'd thank you ever day. And I do, every morning I wake up thankful that you're out there doing what you do. Keeping me alive. Keeping . Jesus, keeping the WORLD safe."  
  
"The world ." she said bitterly, "sure I can save the world, but at what cost?"  
  
"What's this about? This isn't about Francie." He reached down for her hand and guided her towards the sofa. "Is it your mom?"  
  
Sydney sank into the sofa, the weight of the world sinking her into a comfortable softness she didn't deserve. "It's Vaughn," she managed, quietly.  
  
"Vaughn . you're CIA contact?" He stiffened.  
  
Tears filled her eyes, but remained unshed. "In Taipei, while my dad was making the exchange for you - Vaughn and I were busy trying to destroy this device. The explosive I ignited set off a tidal wave of water . only it wasn't water. I got out before the halls flooded, but Vaughn wasn't so lucky."  
  
"But he did escape. We've met."  
  
Sydney pushed her hair back with both hands. "He did . when I found him . I was so relieved. I thought I'd lost another-"  
  
"Like Danny," Will said.  
  
"Friend," Sydney said. "But it turns out this liquid . the flood . it was filled with a chemical compound . some kind of biological warfare. Vaughn ingested it into his lungs. And now-he . it looks like he's going to . we don't have the antidote."  
  
Will reluctantly put his arm around her and drew her closer. As he held her, a sudden realization came over him. "Syd, you were there. The water."  
  
She shook her head. "Doctor's gave me a complete work-up. I wasn't close enough to be infected. I never absorbed any of the compound."  
  
"This guy's important to you."  
  
She looked up at Will, knowing that at this moment, he would understand. Jealousy wasn't a factor when a friend was hurting. "There was a time when Vaughn was the only person who knew everything about me. He risked his career to care about me, to be my friend, to save you."  
  
Will stroked her hair. "Good guy ." Will reluctantly admitted. "So you're waiting for word on the cure. You're going after it." He was catching on fast.  
  
"As soon as I hear from-" Her cell phone rang. "the CIA." She pulled out of Will's embrace, rose and walked toward the light of the window. Pushing hard on the "send" button of her phone. "Hello?"  
  
"The line is secure Sydney," Weiss said.  
  
"Tell me we located it."  
  
"They're pretty sure they know where to find it, but it's not going to be easy - and even if you manage-"  
  
She sighed heavy with relief, but it was short-lived. "You're hesitating. Why are you hesitating?"  
  
Weiss cleared his throat. "There's not much time. There's no guarantee that Agent Vau-that Mike will be-"  
  
"Every second we spend talking about it, we're wasting time. What do I need to do?" she demanded.  
  
Out of the corner of her eye she watched as Will left the room. Clearly, he was becoming aware that the less he knew about her double life the better for everyone.  
  
UCLA Medical Center, Intensive Care Ward  
  
Sydney entered the large room, shocked to find Vaughn among all of the hospital's critical patients. He lie still, eyes closed, his entire body covered in a clear plastic oxygen tent.  
  
In just two days he had deteriorated. His face was gaunt, pale. He looked even worse that when she first found him at the hands of Khasinau. If only a shot of adrenaline would work this time.  
  
She approached his bedside, reaching into her bag, retrieving a package wrapped in black cloth. She opened it to reveal a carefully placed syringe, test tube and blood drawing paraphernalia.  
  
She spied the rubber gloves Weiss added to the package and hesitates. Why should she be afforded such safety? It seemed the risk of touching him was the least she could do. But she donned them anyway. Who knew what bacteria she could carry to his already fragile body.  
  
Unfastening the window in the oxygen tent, she gingerly reached in and pulled his arm down to reveal his weakened veins. Vaughn's head turns, expecting to see another nurse, more than likely. Surprise registered in his shadowed eyes.  
  
"Syd," he whispered.  
  
She could feel her lips spreading into a smile, trying to make the mask cross her face. The one that said, you're going to be okay. "How are you feeling?"  
  
"Great," he said sarcastically. "I was thinking of hitting the gym, but Nurse Ratchet told me my membership wasn't any good here. You planning to switch your degree to nursing?" He nodded toward the syringe on the table beside her.  
  
She sobered a little. "I'm headed back to Russia. Weiss tracked down the antidote. All I have to do is take a little of your blood with me, mix up a dose in their lab, and jump on a plane home. *** In a couple days you'll be doing wind sprints."  
  
The mask cracked. She can't smile. He doesn't look convinced. Instead, she continued what she started, pricking his arm with the needle and drawing his blood.  
  
"Yeah," Vaughn said. "I was thinking about a triathlon."  
  
Sydney unscrewed the syringe and caped it, placing it in the drawer beside her. She removed her hand from the glove to retrieve the vial of blood, but Vaughn catches hold of her first. His fingers wrapped around her ungloved hand, holding it tight.  
  
"Be careful." He knows that this isn't going to be easy. He knows finding a cure is a risk for both of them. There are words in his eyes, words she can't hear and he can't speak. Not yet. "Syd, I'm sorry . I'm so tired ."  
  
The mask was gone. The tears flowed readily. His eyes shut, and he lies still again. His grip loosened. Compensating, she turned her fingers, so that she might hold his hand.  
  
She had no idea if he could hear her, but it might be her last chance. Those words in his eyes. she heard them. She needed him to know she heard them. "... everything we do... all the time we spend together... and I don't know anything about you, really..." She tightened her grip around his fingers, protectively. "I don't know what movies you like, what books you read... what music you listen to. I don't even know where you live. But I've always thought... that someday... after... after all this...  
  
that I'd get to know those things."  
  
Someday. Somedays seem so unlikely in their business. There was always another day - never a someday. Tomorrow, she was determined . tomorrow when he was well would be their someday.  
  
Suddenly an alarm sounded. Her eyes darted to his heart monitor, which has flat-lined.  
  
"Vaughn!"  
  
Doctors and nurses raced to his bedside, pulling her away. Pulling his lifeless fingers from her hand. *** She backed away, but couldn't take her eyes off of him. A nurse tried to lead her toward the door, but she doesn't know whom she's dealing with. One shoulder shove and the woman became instantly aware of Sydney Bristow.  
  
They worked on him feverishly. She watched as the paddles came out, as they spread the lubricant on his chest and deliver outrageous amounts of electricity through his body. It went on for what seemed like hours, but in affect only a handful of minutes passed. She refused to even blink until she heard the doctor's words . "We have a tone."  
  
Before they've even checked his pulse again, she has bolted out the door. Syringe in hand. Her mind full of details. quicker steps that will get her out of the door of the hospital, though LA traffic, onto the jet tarmac. every second is another in his life. Every second is another closer to someday.  
  
A/N: Okay. that's spoiler #2. will be getting to Episode 8: The Passage tomorrow. Obviously, I'm leaving off blocks of detail here. You can fill in the blanks with your own imaginations. Of course, I realize only a handful of you are reading this because it's so full of spoilerly goodness. Hope those of you who have no patience (like me) are enjoying it. - L.D. 


	3. Cinnamon and Sugar

Part 3: Cinnamon and Sugar  
  
A/N: This installment had absolutely NO spoilers within, with the exception of the meeting of Sydney and Alice. I had no details on this meeting or conversation, so their dialogue and the entire piece is all my own original work.  
  
-----------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
It had been close. Too close. But the antidote was in her hands and soon it would be coursing through Vaughn's weakened body. She had been in constant contact with Weiss, who remained at his bedside since he first arrested. She wanted to know the minute his condition changed.  
  
When the plane touched down at LAX he was still in a coma. His vital signs, however had stabilized.  
  
The elevator to the fifth floor of the hospital seemed to crawl upwards. Syd was certain that she would have made if faster if she sprinted up the stairs, but she hadn't wanted to risk breaking the serum vials tucked in inside her leather jacket.  
  
He'd been moved to a private room. Weiss was waiting for her at the door. "Still sleeping like a baby," he joked.  
  
She offered a half smile to Vaughn's colleague and friend. She could see he was masking concern with his trademark humor. Pulling the protected cure from inside her coat, she suggested, "Let's wake him up."  
  
Weiss opened the door and held it for her as she walked in. They'd intibated him; the horrible breathing tube was providing oxygen to his lungs. Monitors of every shape and tone beeped and whistled. She never wanted to see him like this again.  
  
Straightening her form, she gave Weiss a forced grin. "I hope he's a morning person."  
  
Weiss laughed, a quick chortle. "If that serum doesn't come with a chaser of black coffee and a cinnamon sugar donut, we're in big trouble."  
  
Tucking that bit of information away for future reference, Sydney filled a syringe with the tea colored liquid, then pushed it's contents into the valve in his intravenous tube. She settled on the edge of the bed, waiting for the wonder drug to work it's magic. Her heartbeat evening out, the tension of her latest mission flowing out of her aching limbs and coursing through the veins of her loyal handler.  
  
Weiss stood at the foot of the bed. She could feel the same tension easing its way out of the strong man's countenance. For a split second, she realized that he had been in the exact same position just weeks before. His life in the balance, relying on medical technology to get him through.  
  
"Hey." she asked, and it seem to surprise him that she was addressing him. "You holding up okay?"  
  
"I'm not running full throttle yet, but nursing sleeping beauty here wasn't exactly a strenuous assignment."  
  
"Why don't you go get some rest?" "Orders."  
  
She nodded, knowingly. "At least put that really uncomfortable looking plastic Barcolounger to the test." She pointed to the standard hospital issue chair. "I'll run to the cafeteria and see about that coffee and donut."  
  
He didn't fight her. A sure sign that his body was feeling the stress of overwork too soon. When he'd settled into the orange monstrosity, she took her leave.  
  
Twenty minutes later, she stepped off the fifth floor elevator again. She shifted the hot coffee and Dunkin Donuts bag, freeing a hand so she could open the door to his room. The door swung open just as she reached for the handle and a pretty blonde woman stood before her. For a moment neither of them said a word.  
  
"Alice," Sydney half whispered.  
  
"You must be Sydney."  
  
She knew her name? Vaughn had talked about her? What was he thinking? "Your Vaughn's girlfriend."  
  
She didn't deny it. "They just took him off the ventilator." Her shoulders rose and fell. "Doctor said he's out of the coma, but he still hasn't come around."  
  
How much did she know? Sydney didn't know what kind of story the CIA had concocted for his illness, so she simply nodded. "Were you leaving?"  
  
"I'll come back when he's awake. I just wanted him to know someone was thinking about him." She looked at Sydney's full hands. "Cinnamon sugar?"  
  
Sydney nodded.  
  
"I wondered if he took that craving to the office with him as well. You have no idea how many mornings I had to fight him to eat an omelet."  
  
She didn't want to think about Alice's mornings with Vaughn. Did she say HAD? Did that mean she wasn't sharing his mornings anymore? And what business was it of hers what they did in with their mornings?  
  
"I gave Eric my cell phone number," she said. "Please call me if he-"  
  
"He's going to be fine." She touched the woman on the shoulder, a show of support.  
  
Alice glanced at the hand on her arm and grinned. "When he used to talk about you - well, I - let's just say I didn't take to well to hearing about 'Sydney said' or 'Sydney did' over every dinner we shared. I can see though, that you've become an important part of his life. And I'm glad. He may be all smiles and shrugs, but inside are still traces of that lonely little boy. Michael likes to make you believe he enjoys his solitude, but the truth of it is - he needs people. He needs you."  
  
"I need him too," she admitted.  
  
"Coffee's getting cold," Alice said. "You have my number."  
  
And with a brief smile, she was gone.  
  
When she entered the room, Weiss was hovering over Vaughn's bedside. Worry washed over her. "What happened?"  
  
Weiss laughed and turned to face her. "Yup," he said. "Looks like Agent Bristow successfully completed my counter-mission."  
  
"Cinnamon sugar?"  
  
She heard the faint, but familiar voice from behind Weiss's bulky form. Her head titled up, as she struggled to see passed him. Weiss moved aside, clearing her field of vision, which was now blurred with unshed tears. His eyes were open. A soft smile crossed his lips. And he was hungry.  
  
"Got all defensive. Said I was taking over his handler responsibilities. It was just one donut, I told him." Weiss kept joking as he made his way to the door. "I need to go let Devlin know you're back among the living - a-g-a-i-n."  
  
As Weiss exited, Sydney made her way closer to his bedside. "I don't think your doctor would approve of this." She lifted the donut bag.  
  
"Since when do either of us follow orders?" he asked.  
  
"Good point." She pushed the button to raise the head of his bed slightly, and then fluffed the pillow behind his head. Her hand brushed against his shoulder. Instinct told her to pull it back, quickly - but she didn't want to. He was warm and alive-and fluffing his pillow had probably been the most intimate contact they'd ever shared. No, she wouldn't move away. She let her hand rest in the comfortable curve between his shoulder and neck. Her fingers whisked softly over the two-day growth around his jaw line.  
  
Sydney's warm fingers on his cool skin were like fire brands marking his soul. For the second time in little over two months she had saved his life. Wasn't he supposed to be her guardian angel?  
  
"Syd-- thanks." Such small words for a world of meaning.  
  
She pulled her hand away and the absence was like removing a woolen coat on a thirty below December night.  
  
She reached in the bag and pulled out the donut, breaking it into four smaller pieces. "Just a nibble for now," she said. "You can save the rest for later."  
  
He rolled his eyes dramatically. "I could eat a whole dozen."  
  
"But you won't." She smiled at him. God, what that smile did to him. He stared at her lips, and absently wondered what they would taste like dusted in cinnamon and sugar.  
  
She held out the donut fragment to him, but his arms were laden with tubing and monitors. She realized the mistake right away, hesitated for a moment and then lifted the confection to his lips.  
  
He'd have to remember to tell Arvin Sloane - the next time he needed the perfect torture device - to lace Sydney Bristow's long slender fingers with sweetness. As he took a bite of the donut, he was positive the technique would garner its bestower with any detail she desired.  
  
Her fingers never touched his lips, yet they ached from the quick departure as he chewed the small morsel. He was granted a reprieve when she reached back to his mouth with one solitary finger and smoothed the digit over his bottom lip.  
  
"You had a little-" She motioned to her own lips, trying to tell him that she'd just removed some lost sugar.  
  
She eased onto the corner of his bed. "Cinnamon sugar donuts and black coffee. I'll have to add them to the list."  
  
"List?" he asked, curious.  
  
"Of things I know about you."  
  
His insides warmed. "Bring me another piece of that donut and I'll tell you everything from the first album I ever owned to my least favorite food." Torture. And he was a willing victim.  
  
The smile dissolved from her face. What had he said? She picked up another piece of the donut and fed it to him. The torture had lost some of it's impact without the upward curve of her lips. "Omelets," she said.  
  
He searched his memory for a time when he might have shared his dislike for egg-based breakfast foods. There was nothing. "How did you--?"  
  
"Alice came by." She stood. The image of his ex-girlfriend now stood between them. "She was worried about you."  
  
"You met Alice."  
  
It was a statement, but she nodded in response. "She's really nice."  
  
"Yeah, she's a good friend."  
  
Sydney's eyes fell to the floor. "Everyone needs a good friend."  
  
"Why stop at one?" He lifted his hand up away from the mattress. It was an effort and she recognized his struggle immediately, grasping his hand in her own. "You don't realize it, but you know more about me than anyone."  
  
She raised her eyes slowly from their joined hands until she held his gaze with her own. "Those little details," he continued, "the favorite foods and movies and books, they'll all come in time. For now it's just really good to know I have a-friend who knows me the way you do."  
  
Her brow knit and he could see that she was holding something back. Was it denial, tears, something more? He felt the pressure increase on his hand, as she tightened her hold. He responded in kind. A silent agreement.  
  
A/N: More to come. next installment will have the new "watch" spoiler from The Passage. 


End file.
